Dividing by Zero
by Ersatz.Love
Summary: The battle was lost, but the war's not over; the Composer's biggest threat has yet to be erased, after all. Post-game, Sho-centric, spoilers ahoy!
1. Square One

A/N: Post-game. Lots of spoilers contained within! You've been warned!

So I've been obsessed with The World Ends With You and have been absolutely infatuated with Minamimoto. Of course, I was pretty disappointed with what happened to him in the end. You don't even get a glimpse of him after you find his body (and steal his hat -- seriously wtf is wrong with you Neku). But -- I noticed, his body didn't dissipate like the other GMs' bodies had. Not to mention, the Secret Reports always refer to him in the present tense, and what with what Hanekoma had to say about Minamimoto -- all of it suggests that Sho was merely unconscious, rather than completely erased. Besides, with all the things Hanekoma invested in Sho, would he have let him get erased?

Absolutely not.

And so that's where this fic begins. Hope you enjoy.

~*~

Pain.

Pain was the first thing that came to mind, the first thing his otherwise numb body was able to process. He couldn't quite feel it per se, but there was a certain coldness in his muscles that _told _him it was pain he was experiencing, preparing him for the moment when he would fully regain consciousness and have to go through the chore of actually having to move. This realization did not dawn on him until the first actual pangs struck, not from moving a damaged limb but from the simple act of _breathing_, each inhale causing ice-cold needles to push in a little deeper into his lungs.

_I'm...breathing._

It was almost a question more than an act of acknowledgement, the very concept of his continued existence seeming foreign and incomprehensible. Breathing meant he was alive. No, the _pain_ meant he was alive, although the amount of pain he was in almost caused him to wish otherwise. Check: lungs, muscles, and now mouth – had he been eating _sand_ or something before he passed out? His mouth was completely dry, and there was so little feeling in his tongue that he couldn't tell whether the pain was from dried gums, a pop to the jaw, or missing teeth.

This was one hell of a hangover.

Absent-mindedly he bit his tongue to cause himself to salivate, forcing moisture back into his mouth as his other senses slowly began to return. There was an eerie silence surrounding him, not quite like one would think oblivion to be – no, there was a soft cacophony in the distance, of cars and voices and the rackety tracks of the train, but it was all so distant. In his immediate area, there didn't seem to be anything or anyone around. Still, it was a reconfirmation that he was not dead. Awesome.

Sight was going to have to wait, as upon prematurely opening his eyes he was met with a painful, blinding whiteness that made him clench them shut again. In that moment, everything seemed to crash down on him at once, the pain that his brain warned him about suddenly breaking through the flood gates, almost causing him to scream. Why did everything hurt so much? What the hell had happened to him?

_Joshua._

Damnit. It wasn't just a bad hangover. It wasn't even the aftermath of a brawl; he had gotten his ass thoroughly whooped, and that realization was absolutely the last thing he wanted to think about first thing in the morning. Afternoon. Whatever time it was, there was light out, and it burned. Regardless, it was something he was forced to contemplate – the jolts of pain that followed the slightest twitch, the burning in his lungs, the dryness he felt everywhere, the metallic taste of stale blood in his mouth, the way a couple of his teeth wiggled when his tongue prodded them – thank the angels he hadn't lost any, but regardless, all of it brought forth the memories of the events just before blacking out.

Joshua.

The Composer.

Forcing his limbs to work despite the agony, he managed to rise up on his elbows with a great amount of effort, only to find something obstructing him from rising up any farther. With a groan, he conceded to simply resting for a moment, willing the pain away to no avail. His eyes opened to slits, blinking rapidly, waiting until the whiteness faded to blurriness before opening them any wider. The lighting still seemed far too intense than it should have been and it hurt _so_ much just to look around, but he had to make some kind of progress towards recuperation, and getting a sense of where he was and where he should be going was the first step.

Shadows. Shapes. Colours. Forms. Objects. Recognizable objects. Another flash of white as he turned his head to see what it was just above him -- _OH. _No wonder he was knocked out cold. Not every day someone gets bashed in the head with a _vending machine. _And the broken glass covering him and the ground beneath him probably explained where most of the now-dry blood came from – coupled with the horrible-looking bruises and the broken bones they hinted at, the pain was quite understandable. Infuriating, but understandable.

Well.

Some fifteen minutes of struggling later, the Grim Heaper was again strewn out on the ground, except now he was a few metres away from the wreckage that was meant to be his burial crypt. Looking back at it, the way the vending machine and the car and the street pole and all that other stuff laid stacked up against and ontop of each other like that – it was almost reminiscent of his junkpiles. Almost. Except that his junkpiles were works of _art_ to which no one else could even hold a candle. It was a mockery.

Not only was it a mockery, it wasn't even symmetrical. Did the Composer do that on purpose? To purposely irritate his raging OCD? Not cool. Not cool at all.

"Factoring son of a digit..." Standing seemed like an impossible task, but it was one he was certain he could accomplish, and another twenty or minutes or so later, he did. His equilibrium was barely present, allowing him a few wobbling steps before sending him down on his knees once more. Lying down and sleeping seemed like such a more preferable option right now, but – no, he couldn't think that way. He had to press on towards the safety and comfort of his nearest art installation, the top of which could just barely be seen from his position.

It seemed like it was miles away. Really, he shouldn't have been moving at all in his condition, let alone getting up to climb a mountain. But if anyone was prone to giving up, it wasn't Sho. What probably would have been a ten minute walk at full health took about an hour now, but damn everything, he _got_ there.

Despite the unstable appearance of the structure, it was really quite sturdy, each and every item placed in such a way that it could not be dislodged without a good amount of effort. Well, except the empty soda cans and other weightless items that were placed upon it, but those were more for decoration than for structural support, and right now he wasn't worried about how many were tumbling down to the base of the heap in his scramble to get to the top.

As he climbed, he finally gave his full attention to his memories, contemplating frame-by-frame the events leading up to his losing consciousness. He was _so_ certain he could take the Composer on with his Taboo-enhanced body. So. Certain. Where had he miscalculated? In his head, all of the events were translated into equations, scribed in his handwriting upon a blackboard with infinite dimensions. He had thought it through so thoroughly...where? Where was the mistake? What hadn't he taken into account?

Damn it. It was so obvious.

He hadn't taken into account that the Composer was operating at a much higher capacity than when he had first attacked. If that were the case, he would have wiped him out no problem – but no, he hadn't been expecting him to have that much power while still in _that_ form. And why not? How could he have made such a gross underestimation?

"Damn it."

A damaged bathtub protruded at an angle from the heap, close enough to the top to provide for a wonderful view of Shibuya, as well as a somewhat awkward but adequate place of rest. Reclining against the porcelain, Sho finally allowed himself to relax, tired golden eyes gazing out over what should have been _his_ domain. There was something different about it. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something different about how the radians in the RG were acting – for one thing, they weren't still chanting that stupid mantra. Evidently, someone had gone and freed them from the red pin's spell, which means the other Reapers were probably freed as well...

That orange-haired mass of polygons?

Did...did someone else knock off Joshua?

"Well well, what happened to you?"

The pain flared once more as Sho tensed in startled response to the voice, sucking in a sharp breath that exhibited both his physical injuries as well as his currently unstable emotional state. He held that breath for a moment before exhaling just as loud, relieved but still somewhat on edge once he realized who was addressing him.

"Nothing a zero like you ought to concern yourself with."

"Nothing?" the Harrier repeated, stepping down to perch cautiously on a busted television beside the tub. Upon getting a better look at Sho's condition both eyebrows rose, and he paused, not quite able to hide his surprise – though his voice, of course, stayed cool. "Sure doesn't look like nothing."

"Let's just say I didn't doublecheck my homework."

"Fair enough," Kariya shrugged, picking up on the bruised ego that was bleeding through Sho's tone. "We were worried about you, that's all. Hadn't seen you in days."

"How many days?"

"Five."

_Five? _He was out for that long?

"We just figured you got erased," the Harrier continued, pausing for a moment to twirl the lollipop on his tongue. "The Iron Maiden did. So did a lot of Reapers, really – our numbers have been cut like you won't believe. We might have to work another week just for recruiting purposes..."

"SOH CAH TOA. Her Iron Frostiness went down?" Sho asked, voice holding a mellow tone that was more of curiosity than surprise. He tilted his head in Kariya's direction but kept his gaze elsewhere, trying not to show too much or too little interest. _So she didn't take out Megs or the Composer, I'd estimate..._

"And the Conductor."

_"Megs?"_

"Well, he didn't get erased, but he got pretty roughed up. Not as bad as you, though." Turning a bit, he stuck the candy in his mouth and glanced over the top of the junkheap curiously, as if looking for something he might be able to use. Silence reigned for a few moments, and then Sho shifted and felt pain all over again, the resulting grunt drawing Kariya's attention back to him. Though he didn't say anything about it, the Harrier could tell something else was on the Grim Reaper's mind, and Sho's lips parted as he considered voicing it.

Another moment of hesitation.

"And the Composer?"

Kariya quirked an eyebrow.

"He's fine." Lowering the lolly, he took a step lower to try and read Minamimoto's expression – to figure out what that bizarre tone in his voice was. He only barely caught a glimpse of Sho's face before the expression changed – he could of sworn it was a look of...anger? Spite? Disappointment? And now he was looking away. Kariya's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"Well, isn't it my business as to whether or not my employer gets subtracted from the equation?" With a grimace of pain he shifted again, leaning forward and bringing his thumb up to test his teeth. His upper left canine was loose, as were a couple of teeth on the bottom left, but other than that he seemed fine – apparently he was a good enough combatant to avoid getting hit in the face, for the most part. The canine hurt the most, but they would all heal in time – so would the rest of him, once he got enough strength back to draw.

"You sure he's still your employer?" Kariya asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. Sho turned to face him, slightly widened eyes imploring him to follow up on that question. The Reaper met his gaze with one of warning. "Creating Taboo Noise is one of the most serious offenses. Surely you know the consequences–"

"Erasure. Duh." He almost rolled his eyes, confidence beginning to radiate from him once more as he contemplated his own escape. "But I'm sure he'll overlook it. There are worse offenses, after all..."

"Overlook it? Sho," he pointed his lollipop at him, "The Conductor gave a direct order to take you out. That's not exactly a slap on the wrist, you know –"

"Yes, yes, and my punishment was carried out. Everything's equal now."

"–and you actually _came back_ as one! I don't – I don't even _know_ what kind of retribution that would incur once the Composer finds out–"

"He already knows." It wasn't until he caught Kariya's stunned expression out of the corner of his eye that he questioned whether or not saying that was a good idea. The pregnant pause afterwards convinced him to keep quiet about having actually taken Joshua head-on.

"I hope you know what you're doing," the Reaper warned, shaking his head and turning away. His wings spread in a gesture that signalled he had elsewhere to be, but he hesitated a moment before taking leave, head turning to glance at Minamimoto over his shoulder. "You're playing a dangerous game."

Without missing a beat: "It's a game I'm going to win."

"Will you?"

Silence. Kariya's brow quirked as certain suspicions arose in his mind, and he considered probing the Grim Heaper for more answers – but a casual wave from Sho clearly signalled the end of the conversation. Kariya made an uncertain 'hm,' not quite sure how to interpret his encounter, but said nothing. A second later and he was suddenly gone from Sho's peripheral vision, allowing the mathematician to relax once more.

"Of course I will," he mused to himself, tongue glancing over his injured canine. "Just need to do the math."


	2. Off On A Tangent

A/N: Here's chapter 2. Trust me, this story _is_ going somewhere. No, really! Read and review, if you please -- I take all comments and suggestions (and even complaints!) seriously, and hey, maybe I'll incorporate your suggestions somehow. I live for criticism!

Thanks and enjoy.

~*~

"No way!"

"Yes, way."

"No way," Uzuki repeated, voice lowering from the near-shriek it was a second ago. "I thought he got blown to bits?"

"That's the funny thing – he was." Kariya shrugged helplessly, wordlessly admitting that he had just as much of an idea as she did as to how Minamimoto was still in existence. His pink-haired companion had a deep frown that told of both confusion and worry, coupled with the usual frustrated glare that accompanied any situation over which she didn't have complete control. Her thumbnail became the target of her distress, teeth nibbling at it as she searched for the words to describe the..._impossibility_ of it all.

"Somehow," her counterpart continued, "he willed himself back into a physical form. You should see him now – his body's completely meshed with Taboo. It's nuts. _He's_ nuts. I didn't even think anyone was capable of wielding that kind of power..."

"He must have the strength of a _god_," Uzuki exclaimed, sounding even more unsettled as she started piecing facts together. "He obliterated his own body, and managed not only to keep his Soul together enough to keep his sense of self – but he pieced himself together with Taboo magic... that's just...are you _sure_ it was him?"

"It was him alright. Cockiness and all. Spotted him on one of his 'art' installations." Kariya's tongue darted out against his sugary treat, which was about whittled down to near-nothing now. "We had a pleasant conversation."

"Conversation?! You could have been KILLED," his junior shrieked, fist coming down on the table between them with a slam and the clattering of plates. Though a little startled, the older Reaper slouched back against the worn fabric of the booth, almost amused at Uzuki's outburst.

"Not in the condition he was in," Kariya smiled. The pink-haired woman's expression changed completely, lips forming a confused 'O.' Her eyebrows raised in interest, and she sat up a little straighter, hand motioning for him to go on.

"To put it plainly, it looked like someone almost beat him to death."

Uzuki paled.

"All bruised and bloody. Couldn't move a finger without cringing...sure hope _we_ don't run into whatever he picked a fight with."

"Didn't– didn't you ask him what it was, Kariya?! Something that could rough _him_ up could wipe out our ranks overnight! We can't just leave something like that on the loose–"

"I did ask," Kariya interrupted, looking somewhat annoyed. "All he said was that he didn't do his homework. Kind of surprising, actually – he didn't know about Konishi's fate, or anything that happened these past five days...wonder where he's been. I can't imagine that he wouldn't have found out sooner, unless he got killed and had to come back again..."

"_Again?_ Wait," Uzuki pointed at her companion, "He's been around?"

Kariya looked at her like she was an idiot. "Well, duh. He's been like that since the start of the third week. Where have _you_ been?"

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Why do you think the Taboo Noise are still around?"

"I didn't know! So – okay, okay, what else don't I know?"

"Well, it's no surprise. We were out for most of the third week, so...I'm not sure what happened, myself." Kariya rolled his eyes and turned to glance out the window at the street, wondering what was taking so long for his bowl of ramen. "But he materialized at some point during the start of the third week, screwed things up some more, and around the last day had the stuffing beat out of him. Where he's been the last five days, and what he did that week, I have no idea."

Both Reapers quieted as the waitress came with her tray, setting down two large bowls of piping-hot noodles before them. Kariya dug in right away, noisily slurping the noodles while his partner watched him through the steam of her own bowl. Sighing grumpily, she balled her hand into a fist and leaned on it, eyes travelling down to her meal with an intense gaze. All of a sudden, she didn't really feel the desire to eat anymore...

"Hey, don't let it get cold," Kariya mumbled through a mouthful of half-chewed ramen. Uzuki gave an annoyed growl in response, but cut him off before he could ask whether he could have her bowl.

"This isn't good, Kariya. His presence in the Underground is troubling enough, but whatever roughed him up that bad...it might not just be us in trouble. Sounds like the Conductor – heck, even the _Composer_ could be–"

"Nothing to worry about."

"_What?_"

"Nothing to worry about," he repeated, licking a piece of seaweed from the corner of his mouth. "They already know."

Uzuki's eyebrows rose.

"According to Genius, anyway, the Composer already knows what he's been up to. So there's no point in reporting it."

"I'm finding this all hard to believe," Uzuki admitted after a moment. "Why would the Composer allow all this? His performance during the second week was abominable, he broke one of the biggest rules in the Underground – and then broke some umpteen million after that – came back half-_Taboo_ for the love of–"

"Don't forget the Conductor ordered for him to be erased," Kariya pointed out.

"Yes, and that – and why hasn't he been taken care of yet, if he's been around for almost two weeks?"

"Maybe the Conductor tried," he theorized, picking up the bowl to better scoop the broth into his mouth. "Maybe that's why he was so roughed up."

"But then why didn't he finish him? None of this makes any sense." Flipping her cellphone open, she paused, gaze hardening into a glare once she saw the number of bars she had for a signal. Or rather, a lack of one. "We need to get back to the UG. Regardless of what that lunatic said, we need to report it to headquarters." Standing, Uzuki closed her cellphone but kept it in hand, beginning to walk towards the exit.

"You're just going to leave it?"

"What?"

"Your ramen."

"Screw the ramen, we need to go _now!_"

Feeling his partner's glare directed towards him, he gave the untouched bowl of ramen a sigh of pity. "What a waste..."

~*~

Golden eyes fluttered open, pupils dilating as they adjusted to the darkness. Well, about as dark as Shibuya got -- all around him were glittering lights of various colours. Neon signs, stoplights, department store lights, streetlights, and every now and then there were the lights accompanying the bullet train as it made its last few runs for the night. In the distance he could hear the faint bustling of the sleepless city's nightlife, traces of club music drifting out amongst the noise of busy traffic. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, just taking in his surroundings. It was peaceful, for what it was.

But everything still freaking hurt.

It wasn't quite as bad as before, more of a bad ache than blinding pain, but it still deterred him from moving too quickly. Leaning forward with a dull groan, he tried to stretch to remedy the effects of sleeping sitting up in a broken bathtub, and finding a great deal of difficulty in doing so, he just chalked it up to a few more aches and pains he'd have to put up with.

_That's it. I'm getting a couch._

From what he could see, nothing much had changed, and there weren't any Reapers around to bug him this time. Good, he was alone. Eyes and ears alert for any intruders, the better of his hands started searching his pockets, starting with his jeans and working their way up to the inner pockets of his jacket. Finally his fingers brushed against a smooth cylindrical stub; pulling it out, he was relieved to find at least one little piece of his chalk survived the battle.

Briefly he wondered whether any of his bones had been so pulverized as the rest of his chalk.

Ew, no.

Throwing such thoughts aside, he turned about as much as he could and began drawing on the sides of the tub, managing to create a crude but complex sketch of a wicked-looking skull. Every now and then he paused in thought, rattling his brain for the right stroke order, and proceeded with a little hesitation.

It looked...weird.

Placing his hand on it, he closed his eyes and focused, and feeling nothing, gave an algebraic swear. He wiped the symbol away with his sleeve and started again, repeating the process several times over to no avail.

"Zetta lame," he mumbled. He was _sure_ he was doing something wrong, but he couldn't quite place his finger on it...

...

_Well. Looks like I ought to pay CAT a visit... _

He shuddered. If he was going to heal any faster he was going to need a refresher on how to draw the damn symbol right, but the visit wasn't going to be a pleasant one. Not after trashing his shop and almost blowing his cover. Not biting off way more than he could chew in taking on the Composer _directly_.

Wiping the last botched symbol away, he braced himself against the top of the tub and stood, testing his limbs for the trek towards Cat Street. It wasn't looking too good -- he had a prominent limp due to the pain in one hip and the ankle on the opposite side had a definite sprain. He _really_ didn't feel like crawling all the way -- he still had a reputation to live up to, after all.

Out came the wings.

"Holy hexadecimals." Having hidden them for most of the fight, they didn't hurt as bad as the rest of him, but they were still pretty torn up -- two on his left were devoid of their metallic feathers completely, and one on his right was about half-destroyed, jutting out at a twisted angle that made it of no use whatsoever. That left a terribly asymmetric set of three left to work with.

Flying was going to be interesting.

Stretching them about as far as they could go, he took one step forwards--

--and promptly tumbled, having forgotten to check for a stable surface before putting his foot down. Somehow his wings caught enough lift to let him glide down and away from the sculpture, and with a few flaps he was off, awkwardly trying to balance his flight and avoid crashing into buildings.

A few dented streetlamps and three broken windows later, and he was making a botched landing on Cat Street, gracelessly tackling the asphalt and depositing himself in a heap outside Wildkat.

_Ow._

At least the coffee smelled good.

"Minamimoto."

_Hi!_

As he lifted his head, his dizzy gaze fixated on a tall and lanky figure in the doorway of the now-closed cafe, who looked none too pleased with the gift dropped on his doorstep. Sho raised himself onto his knees and offered a weak wave of greeting and a sheepish grin that belied his innocence.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you anytime soon," Hanekoma grumbled. "What brings you back here?"

"What do you think?"

~*~

"I am not amused," a rather nasal voice grumbled on the other end of the phone. "Nor am I surprised."

"_He's not surprised," _Uzuki whispered, clasping a hand over the mouthpiece. Her partner simply shrugged, expression clearly saying _I told you so_ without the effort of having to move his lips.

"It's not a huge threat. Just...irritating." The voice punctuated that word with a sigh, as if this whole situation was just a small, vexing kink in the overall scheme of things. He hardly took into account the distress in Uzuki's voice or her urgent request for intervention, but he fully understood the consequences of just letting it go. Something had to be done.

"But sir, this puts everyone in danger–"

"I know the situation far better than you do, Yashiro." By now the irritation in his voice was clear, and he was beginning to direct it at _her_. She kept her mouth shut. Her silence was reciprocated, and for a moment she wondered if the signal had died on her, until a much deeper voice came on the line.

"Yashiro."

"Yes sir?" Uzuki's eyes floated towards her partner, who was now leaning in closer to hear the conversation.

"The Composer has spoken. Your orders, for now, are to continue as if Minamimoto did not exist."

"But...we...Yes sir," she exhaled with frustration. Arguing with the Conductor was never a smart thing to do, but in this sort of situation, she almost wanted to. The pause afterwards indicated that her hesitation had been noticed, and her face flushed as she waited for a response.

"Don't worry Yashiro," Kitaniji finally spoke, almost sympathetically. "He knows what He is doing. Trust in Him."

"Yes sir."

"We will keep you posted."

Click. Uzuki listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before lowering and snapping the phone shut, unsure of what to say. Her eyes met Koki's again, and in them she could see the same uncertainty that she was sure was in her own. He was thinking the same as her.

"They know something we don't."

"_He_ knows something we don't. You heard the Conductor's voice – he was just as panicked as we are."

"Whatever it is, I don't like it."

"But you heard him. We can't just go around sticking our nose in the Composer's business--"

"Maybe," Koki admitted, pulling the lolly from his mouth. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "But we shouldn't have to be kept in the dark, either."

A pause.

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

Kariya hesitated for a moment, intense gaze directed off towards the towering junkpile that no longer had its maker perched on top. His eyes closed slowly, and when they reopened, he was facing Uzuki again, lips curled upward in a lazy smirk.

"Let's play a game, Uzuki."


	3. 141592653589793

Hey guys!

Sorry for not updating in forever. I've been really busy with college stuff and trying to get off of academic probation and everything. Why does life have to get in the way of fanfic writing?! Argh. Forgive me!

Thanks to my reviewers for reviewing and stuff! It always makes me happy to see the little notice in my inbox that I've gotten a review. And thank you to those who put this story/me on watch -- that always makes my day so much better. I'm honored that you liked the story enough to want to catch up on it :D I hope I don't let you down!

On that note, I wanted to address a question someone emailed me -- "why does this fic have an M rating?" Answer: While the first few chapters aren't likely to have much in the way of mature content, there WILL be chapters in the future that may potentially be offensive to more sensitive readers. I didn't want to put up a PG/PG13 fic and attract more sensitive viewers, only to scare them away by having to change it to an M-rating later on. I figure those that went looking for an M-fic in the first place wouldn't really mind. But just to reiterate (lol iteration) -- expect some disturbing content in later chapters.

And sex.

Anyway, don't forget that Pi Day is coming up (March 14th)! I'll try to get the 4th chapter cranked out by then. And speaking of pi, aside from this awful long author's note, this chapter is exactly 3141 words long! So without further ado... here's chapter pi.

~*~

There was a distinct tension in the air, mingling with the scent of coffee and making it very uncomfortable for the cafe's sole patron. Hanekoma took his time cleaning the machines, the tables, counting money, counting stock; aside from the irritated glare hiding behind those shades, he acted as if Sho wasn't even there. No words were spoken – the mathematician knew very well that anything he said had a high chance of making things worse for him, and Hanekoma was absolutely the last person he needed to be pissed at him right now.

Of course, it was a little too late for that.

"I don't even know where to start." That was the first sentence uttered since Sho had set foot into WildKat, and the barely-restrained anger in the angel's voice was hard to miss. Sho sank a little deeper into his seat, chin in his palm, just waiting for the inevitable chastising that would probably comprise the next half hour. Every passing second of silence grew more tense; was he expecting apologies? Explanations? _Cause I don't have any..._

"_Idiot."_ The towel that was used to wipe down the last mug was none too gently tossed into the sink, and the mug hung on a rack to the side of it. Hanekoma's hand rose to his forehead, thumb and forefinger massaging his temples to try and kill his growing headache. "I hope you understand the repercussions of all this."

"I'll pay you back for the damages."

"That–" the barista spun and shot him another glare, "I'm not even talking about that. That comes later." Adjusting his shades, he took a sweeping glance across the cafe, noting every little bit of damage that had yet to be repaired. Most of the chairs and decorations had been replaced, but there was still that chunk of wood missing from the counter, he was short half a dozen mugs and one coffeemaker, and needless to say business was even slower because of it all...

And Sho was smirking. Well, not quite. He was trying his best to hold it in.

"I told you that you have to be _careful._ That does _not_ mean 'go berserk and trash my cafe,' and it sure as hell doesn't mean 'go mano-a-mano with the Composer.' What were you _thinking?_"

"I was–"

"No you weren't."

It was Sho's turn to glare.

"You weren't thinking. You just... what am I going to do with you..?"

"I would hope you would patch me up before you continue this long division."

"...You forgot how to draw it." Hanekoma sighed in frustration, leaning over the counter and looking over the Reaper's wounds a little more closely. His expression slowly changed, anger starting to melt away into simple irritation as he took in the extent of the damage. Brow furrowing, he pulled his shades down a little and glanced back up at the math-freak's face.

"Wings."

Sho complied, revealing the mangled mess that he had arrived with, and one of CAT's eyes twitched in what might have been something of a wince. The barista gave a little grunt of acknowledgement and leaned back, looking thoughtful for a few seconds, then shook his head, leaning forward again.

"This will hurt." Without even giving Sho a second to brace himself, both hands came forward to grip the Reaper's shoulders, and a horrific pain ran through his body. It was not unlike an electric shock; in that instant all the pain he was feeling from his wounds disappeared, wiped out by the much more searing pain overwhelming him. A loud cry was Sho's only protest, shortened by the sudden removal of that buzzing heat – and as he sat, stunned, it slowly came to his realization that _all_ pain was gone.

"I...what was–?"

"You pull that stuff again and _I'll_ be the one to beat you within an inch of erasure." Hanekoma strode across the room to stack the chairs onto the tables, leaving Sho to stare off into space and wonder what the hell just happened. He flexed each individual muscle experimentally, and finding no evidence of his earlier damage, went on to check his wings – all repaired as if nothing happened. A grin crept onto his face.

"Zetta thanks! Now I can–"

"No you can't."

"Oh _come on._"

"You're not going _anywhere,_" the angel growled, not raising his voice one decibel but still sounding every bit as intimidating as if he had. "You blew it. Face up to that. You blew it big time."

"The remaining digits on the clock were ticking down pretty fast..."

"And you squandered the remaining time. Rather than lying low and gathering more power like _I told _you to, you just had to go off and tear up Shibuya in search of him. If you had just listened to me, you would have had plenty of time."

Sho was oddly silent. After all, he was right. Hindsight was 20/20, and it hurt. With the Reaper's quiet acquiescence, Sanae seemed to relax at least a little, pulling up a stool two seats over and leaning over the counter. He adjusted his shades and stared at the floor beneath Sho – or at least, that's as far as Sho could tell. He couldn't find the man's dark eyes behind darker shades.

"I suppose it's all water under the bridge now."

A bit of the tension seemed to dissipate with that sentence, and it felt like it was easier to breathe. Yellow eyes drifted downwards, not exactly looking at Hanekoma, but that's where his gaze rested as his attention turned back to his memories. It _was_ a pretty big blunder, and thinking of it now – for all intents and purposes, he wasn't even supposed to exist.

Come to think of it...

"Why _am_ I still here?"

Sanae's eyebrow quirked at the question, and he met Sho's gaze from behind the safety of his sunglasses.

"I mean, I was a decillion different kinds of screwed," the mathematician continued, "but I'm still here. And I really don't think that bastard is in any way forgiving."

CAT stayed quiet. Sho threw his hands up.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" The angel's gaze didn't lighten one bit. "Look at you."

Sho opened his mouth to follow up with another question, but paused, brows furrowing in thought. He glanced down. And then his expression went blank for a few seconds before quickly turning to confusion that grew more and more panicked as he processed what he saw. The black mark of Taboo magic was mostly absent from his skin now, the greater part of his body having returned to its normal tone – or at least relatively so. Where dark tendrils previously wrapped around his body there was merely ugly scar tissue. The last remaining evidence of his previous endeavors was the thin outline of the Leo symbol scrawled across his chest and stomach, and of course his blackened hands.

"What the factor..?"

"You didn't even notice?" Hanekoma gave a short, insincere chuckle. "It's gone, Boss. Erased."

"Erased." It was almost a question, complete disbelief making him unable to accept what he saw.

"The Taboo goes first, didn't you know?" Unable to go any longer without his umpteenth cup of coffee, the angel rose and crossed around to the bar to start up his personal coffeemaker – which was never, _ever_ turned off. "He probably saw the Taboo essence leaving you and figured you were good as erased. Wasn't _your_ Soul, though, luckily for you." _And for me._

Now that it was brought to his attention, Sho remembered. He remembered much too clearly. He remembered the weight on his entire body, the inability to breathe, the way darkness was closing in from each corner of his peripheral vision. Some of it was the darkness of unconsciousness taking him by force; some of it was the particles of his being, slowly drifting upwards, merging piece by piece into the stream of Soul that hung heavy in the air, invisible but tangible. It was unnerving, watching as his body began to fade.

What was most unnerving was seeing Joshua's face before losing consciousness; his smirk was the last thing he saw.

_That smirk._

Hanekoma must have picked up on Sho's darkened mood; his anger was slowly giving way to sympathy, and he wasn't sure whether it was the Grim Heaper's look of complete and utter defeat or his own internal feeling of having let him down, but something stirred his pity. A firm hand came to rest on Sho's shoulder as the loud hum of the coffeemaker broke the silence.

"Don't look so down, Boss." When he received no response, he continued with a hesitant sigh. "You're still here, and that's what counts. And you're not exactly back at square one. Listen to me for once and you'll be back on your feet in no time."

"Zetta shucks." Reaching up to fiddle with his hat, as was his nervous habit, he suddenly froze when his hand touched air. His eyes widened and his pupils narrowed to thin slits. That's when realization dawned on the both of them – and Sanae drew his hand away with every bit of urgency as if he had just been burned.

"And my hat is gone!" Sho exclaimed. His voice held a weird tone that bordered somewhere between incredulity and rage.

"I can just make you a new hat..."

"Hectopascal!" The Grim Heaper was on his feet now, using every bit of self-discipline he could muster to avoid destroying the cafe all over again. "It wouldn't be numerically identical!"

Sanae sighed.

"Then I'll get you your hat back."

"How are you gonna–"

"Just," the angel interrupted, raising a hand to shut his protege up before dropping that hand to rub at his temples again. "Headache."

"Derive your headache!" Spinning on his heel, he headed directly for the door. "I have to find my hat!"

"Sho, stop!"

_Damn,_ Hanekoma's grip was strong when he was mad, and the pain that accompanied such a grip was enough to stun Sho for long enough that he did, in fact, stop.

"You _have_ to lay low."

"Hectopascal," he repeated, voice sounding much more venomous. "I have. To find. My hat."

"I heard you the first time." Sanae's hold slackened somewhat, then tightened tenfold the second Sho tried to pull away, drawing a sharp cry of pain from the mathematician. With his free hand he quite calmly adjusted his shades, not at all fazed at being on the receiving end of a death glare once more. "But apparently you didn't hear _me_. I said, you have to lay low. As in completely off the radar."

"But–!"

"You're staying here tonight."

"You are _not_ my mother."

"And you are not a child," the barista quipped, almost amused at just how petty the argument was starting to get. With the slightest of tugs he was able to pull Minamimoto away from the door, releasing the boy only when he was confident that he made an adequate obstruction. The only way to get out would be _through_ Hanekoma, and that was one barrier Sho wasn't about to test, so the Reaper settled for crossed arms and a cross look.

"You suck."

That was enough to elicit a burst of laughter from the barista, who felt so much more at ease with the boy's flames of rage squashed to just a pile of embers. Hand back on the Reaper's shoulder, he gently but firmly turned and guided him towards the stairs. Sho didn't stop pouting for a second, nor did Sanae stop grinning; even so, the mess hadn't entirely been dealt with, and he was going to have to straighten a few things out tomorrow...

"The bedsheets are clean..." he started, pausing when he looked at his hand after letting go of Sho's shoulder; blood, sweat, and whatever residue coated the stuff of his junkheaps all mixed to form a dark grime on his palm. "...but you sure aren't. Why don't you wash up and get some rest?"

"Spent all day in a bathtub. Not tired."

"Coulda fooled me, Boss. You reek." He couldn't _help_ but grin when he got another glare. "No more than you usually do, of course. You and your junkheaps..."

"It's _art_."

"And when was the last time you showered?"

The question made Sho falter mid-step, almost drawing another burst of laughter from Sanae.

"...Not since nuking myself," he admitted aloud, now changing direction to head towards the bathroom. No point in arguing with Hanekoma.

Not when he was laughing his ass off like that.

~*~

"You weren't surprised, Sir?"

"...I admit I was, a bit."

Kitaniji stared at his phone absent-mindedly, lips set in a deep frown. It wasn't that he himself was afraid of the Grim Heaper – at least, that's what he convinced himself. Minamimoto was someone to be reckoned with, yes, but heck – he was the _Conductor. _One step below the Composer. One step below _God._

And if God wasn't worried about this twist in the plans, then he wouldn't worry, either.

Except he did.

"Our numbers are limited," he finally said, voice every bit as stiff as his expression, "and aside from Uzuki and Kariya, we have..." He did the math in his head – inwardly groaning at the very idea of number crunching, given the situation – and drew his lips further downwards. "...Zero Harriers. Four Supports. No Officers."

"And that is why I brought you back, Megumi."

"Yes Sir," the Conductor turned, lowering himself into a bow. "I am eternally grateful."

Kiryuu didn't respond.

It seemed like it should have been weird, Kitaniji thought, as he dared to glimpse at the ethereal figure before him. It seemed like it should have been weird to see said ethereal figure draping Himself lazily across the couch, somehow appearing majestic despite the way He had His feet up on the nearby sidetable. It should have felt surreal to lay his eyes upon the image of God chewing idly on His thumbnail as He gazed at the fish beneath the floor. But when you held the title of Conductor as long as Kitaniji had, there wasn't a whole lot in the world that seemed out of the ordinary.

That did not mean he had any less reverence for the Composer than when he first laid eyes on Him. No, he had _more._

"...But I am concerned about the upcoming Game..." He trailed off when the comment received a dismissive wave from his idol.

"Don't be. We will continue as usual, as if _he_ did not exist." Exactly what He had said before, and despite Kitaniji's faith, it put him no more at ease than it did the first time it was said. The Conductor lowered his head, taking a few seconds to listen to the song that was currently playing through his earphones. Why..?

If God was not concerned with Minamimoto, why did He react the way He did? Never had he seen Him so upset. It haunted him to the core, the way His eyes narrowed and His pupils shrank when He overheard.

"_Kitaniji here."_

He was surprised, he admitted, when his phone went off not all that long after he returned to existence. He simply wasn't expecting a call – not when his hand-picked Officers were all dead (or presumed dead), his Harriers out of commission, and the Game essentially shut down. He and Kiryuu had used the Game for their own devices before, but never did it have such devastating consequences as this...

"_Yashiro..? You haven't been erased?"_

He really didn't expect any of his Harriers to make it out, after witnessing the proxy's power. The air was so thick with the scent of Soul – and it was even more so afterwards, post-oblivion. In his disorientation, it was as if all the world had gone away, and only he and the Composer remained. All the players, the Reapers, the Noise–

"_We are aware of the damages, Yashiro. Leave it to the Composer and I, and...what?"_

–everything that made the Game what it was, was gone. The Underground was empty but for the few Reapers that remained. It was, essentially, starting from scratch. And while the Composer didn't _need_ to bring him back, it made certain things a lot easier...

"_What do you mean you found 'him?' Who?"  
_

But the way He had reacted.

"_...Minamimoto..?"_

_"What?"_

Kiryuu had whipped around so fast it startled Kitaniji's already panicking self. The Composer's violet eyes had widened as an unreadable expression captured His face, intense but no more emotional than what it usually was. Strained silence reigned as both of them awaited the next thing to come out of Uzuki's mouth, and it seemed like eternity before anything did.

She repeated herself. He almost dropped the phone.

"_Minamimoto is back."  
_

The Composer reached out towards him.

"_Give me the phone."_

The way He had reacted and the way He was acting now put the Conductor on edge, and it was only worsened by the fact that the Composer wanted to _deny_ it – to continue as if the problem didn't exist, as if it were a simple glitch on the radar that would be fixed when it was next taken in for repairs. Something as insignificant as a dead pixel – annoying, irritating, but not life-altering. Nevermind the fact that a great deal of their losses was _because_ of Minamimoto and all...and from what Uzuki had told them – from what he had heard from the Composer – the boy was more dangerous now than before.

Of course, he never did get a chance to witness Sho at full strength. The Grim Heaper never got that far.

"Composer, Sir..."

The Composer's brows lifted to show He was listening.

"...With all due respect...I..."

"You're really that bothered," Kiryuu groaned. "As I said, he is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. If it'll put your mind at ease, you can take care of it yourself. I'll leave it up to you."

Kitaniji's face was priceless.

"...I...Sir! How am I to take him on when _you_–" All of a sudden the tension was cleaved in two by the Composer's soft chuckling.

"Oh, don't misread me, Megumi. You know better." Shifting, He rolled over onto His side, back towards the Conductor. "Minamimoto isn't the problem. I am not at all concerned about his return."

Silence. Kiryuu's head turned a little so He could look at Kitaniji out of the corner of His eye, unable to suppress a glare, though it certainly wasn't directed at His Conductor.

"I am more concerned about the _means_ of his return."

"Sir?"

"It's one thing for him to somehow learn Taboo magic," He continued, expression darkening. "It's quite another when someone is actively teaching him."

"Then..." Kitaniji's face blanched from the very suggestion. "Do You suppose it's because of our game?"

"No," Kiryuu sighed, "If They wanted me gone, it would not be a secret affair. This matter is most likely the work of a few renegades."

_Fallen angels..?_

"The question now is whether or not those individuals have been dealt with, or if we are going to continue to have problems." He turned away again, looking quite intent on napping. "I will deal with the bureaucracy of that. You deal with Minamimoto, if it makes you happy."

"Yes sir!"

"Now go away Megumi. I need my beauty sleep."


	4. More Questions Than Answers

A/N: CURSES. I just missed Pi Day – this site was all "ZOMG ERRORRRRRRRR" and I couldn't upload this for some reason. Alas! Happy belated Pi Day to you all. It's Sho's birthday, after all (and Einstein's!). You know what that makes him..?

A _PI–_SCES! GET IT LOL? -is shot-

Thanks for all the reviews and favorites! As always, it warms my heart. Now onto chapter four!

~*~

Sleep did not come easy for Sho. The muffled noises outside hardly got any quieter as the hours passed, and it was all too tempting to sneak out through the window and be a part of the chaos. Golden eyes peered into the darkness as he tried to busy himself with quadratic equations he had no problems solving; simple, redundant exercises to try and lull his overactive mind towards sleep. But sleep wouldn't come.

Something was nagging him, and he couldn't put his finger on it. It was something just barely out of reach of conscious thought – similar to the feeling of having something right on the tip of your tongue. Something...wrong. Out of place. Out of order. It made him paranoid. Sure, he was safe with Hanekoma, but how long would that last? For all he knew, the Composer could very well have known about the Producer's hand in the last game...

All that, _and_ the fact that he was absolutely _starving,_ made the chances of a restful night quite slim.

How long had it been since his last meal, anyway? According to Kariya, it had been five days since...

Wait.

Since what, exactly?

The mathematician sat up rather suddenly, paying no mind to his stomach's incessant growling. Hunger handicapped his mental processes, but he had finally grasped that phantom thought that had been worrying him since he woke up. Firstly, how long had he been unconscious? It was a Sunday – day 7 – or so he thought, when he fought with J–

...when he lost consciousness.

"_Hadn't seen you in days."_

_"How many?"_

_"Five."_

His brows furrowed in thought. He never once ran into Kariya _or_ Uzuki since he was Game Master, and as far as he knew, no one saw him when he finally emerged from the Taboo refinery sigil. All the Supports and Harriers he had run across were all zombiefied by then – and he had no problem putting them out of their misery, for caution's sake. If those two Harriers were the same way...

When the hell did Kariya see him?

Come to think of it, _none_ of that conversation made any sense. Maybe he wasn't in his right mind at the time to think about it, but... Kariya should have been much more surprised to find him. It was as if he already _knew_ he came back.

Five days. Five days since Kariya saw him. Logically, that would make today... Friday or Saturday, he guessed, depending on when Kariya found him– wait wait wait. _Found?_ Oh, no. Something was definitely amiss here. Exactly what all had gone on when he was out?

He needed to know.

As much as he appreciated the soft bed and the feeling of actually being _clean_ for once, maybe he could afford to sneak out. After what happened last time, he_ really_ didn't like the idea of going against Sanae's advice, but...well, it couldn't _hurt,_ could it? Just for a short time. Just long enough to get a belly full of food and maybe do a little investigating. _He doesn't have to know. I'll be back before he could calculate pi to the 270th digit. _

The front door was out of the question, so the window would have to do. Sheets off, he gathered up the tattered clothes that laid strewn across a nearby chair, frowning a little now that he got to see just how badly they fared during the battle. Maybe it _wouldn't_ hurt to let Hanekoma fix him a new outfit after all... but that was an issue to be dealt with in the morning. Donning the rags, he strode across to the window and opened it, bracing his arms against the sill as he slipped his legs through. Lowering himself about as far as he could, he let go, landing on the sidewalk maybe a little louder than he had hoped. He froze, listening; nothing stirred. All was well.

His eyes closed as he concentrated on lowering his vibe, feeling his heartbeat change its rhythm; the air around him seemed to shift and change, and the cacophony of voices seemed to thin as the thoughts of nearby mortals were silenced in his mind.

The Realground.

Scowling, he opened his eyes once more and struck off, heading towards a slightly busier side of town. His stomach reminded him that food was to come first, perhaps in the form of a hearty bowl of ramen. After that...he wasn't sure where he would go. Maybe going for a walk would be all he needed to put his mind at ease. Briefly he considered heading back to the Trail of the Bygone to look for his hat, provided it was still intact – but getting too close to the Composer's chambers just seemed like an all-around stupid idea.

Five days. It seemed like ample time for Hanekoma to put his cafe back together, or at least get most of the wreckage out of plain sight. Five days also seemed like ample time for Hanekoma to come rescue him – and why hadn't he? Was he gone the whole time? No, otherwise his cafe would look drastically different. Did everyone really think he was a goner?

_Shouldn't be so surprised. I thought I was a goner, too._

The train of thought derailed the second he caught a whiff of the nearest fast food restaurant, his entire being suddenly flooded with the need to stuff himself with delicious food. Taking a sharp turn, he slipped through the door and attacked the nearest cashier with his fiercest glare, as if he could command the poor girl to give him food with that look alone. She flinched and drew back, eyes saturated with both fear and distaste, no doubt because of the way Sho dressed and looked; while Gatito was always in fashion, the unusual markings on his arm and face likely made him out to be some gang member looking for trouble.

"Welcome," she mechanically drawled, uneasiness leaking into her voice. "What can I get you?"

Sho slammed his fist on the counter.

"Scores Of Hamburgers, Cola And Hotdogs, Tons Of Applesauce."

"We're out of applesauce, sir."

Sho looked ready to _kill _her.

"W...would you like some fries instead?"

_**"APPLESAUCE."**_

The girl shrieked and jolted back when his voice produced a veritable shockwave, cutting her hearing ability in half and scaring her shitless.

"I'll – I'll check the back!"

After a thorough search of their food stocks came up empty-handed, a bit more of an argument ensued before Sho was persuaded to accept tons of apple strudels instead (he had technically cheated since "hot dog" was two words, anyway). A mountain of food was stacked onto his tray, and off he went to the nearest booth to gobble them down. Once he had a little sustenance, he'd be able to think.

At least, that's what he was planning on. He was not planning on finding his thoughts walking through the door right as he sat down.

"You don't happen to have ramen here, do you?"

"No sir, but we do have–"

"_**HECTOPASCAL!"**_

In an instant Sho had Kariya pinned to the counter, bending the Harrier backwards in what appeared to be an _extremely_ uncomfortable angle. They suddenly had the attention of every patron in the place, except for one old granny who got all huffy over the 'rowdy young hooligans' that were ruining her dinner and left to presumably call the police. The rest stayed frozen in their seats to watch whatever drama was about to unfold, unfold.

The Harrier's response was a look that indicated he was having a heart attack.

"You and I have a decillion things we need to discuss, A.S.A.P." The Grim Heaper tightened his grip on the Harrier's shoulders when he started to squirm, trying to move to either grab the lollipop that had dropped onto the counter or adjust the glasses that had gotten knocked out of place in the violent downwards jolt. Efforts coming to naught, he simply groaned and gave Sho a pathetic stare.

"Dude, you are _so_ not healthy for my heart this late at night."

"_**Radian!**_ I want to know what's going on!"

Some douchebag who was apparently the restaurant's manager had come up and started talking to them, only to be completely ignored. Kariya groaned and relaxed about as much as he could under the circumstances, at least trying to give the impression that he wasn't going to resist.

"Listen, Archimedes – this isn't exactly the time or place for that, y'know? Why don't you _get offa me_ and I'll think about talking?"

Minamimoto held his glare for a few more seconds before straightening and allowing Kariya to do the same, apparently placated after deciding that the new moniker was a compliment rather than an insult. The older Reaper rather calmly stood, wincing as his spine crackled from shifting out of that awkward bend, and reached to grab his lollipop. Unfortunately, Sho grabbed it first, which earned him the angriest glare he had ever _seen, _and when Kariya adjusted his glasses, the glare became oh so much scarier through those orange-tinted lenses.

"Give it back."

The manager was still quite angrily babbling on with unheeded threats, growing more and more irritated that he was being ignored.

"I'm holding this hostage until you tell me what I want to know."

Kariya lowered his head, lips pursed as he considered his choices. It was at this point in time that the manager decided if shouting wasn't working, he'd resort to physical action instead, and made the stupid mistake of lunging across the counter to grab Sho by the collar of his coat.

"You listen to me you little punk–"

Whatever he was going to say next was rather rudely interrupted by the toe of the Grim Heaper's boot coming into contact with his chin, smashing his jaws together and probably shattering the lower one. Releasing his grip, he collapsed to the floor with a splatter of blood, out cold. A terrified cry rose up from the tables around them.

"Damn, Sho." The Harrier pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, watching the horde of patrons spring for the exit. "You really know how to screw up a meal, don'tcha?"

"This set is garbage," Sho muttered, returning to his table and stuffing his food into his pockets. Apple strudels and hotdogs in one pocket, as many burgers as he could fit in the other, and one extra large soda to carry. In a rare show of generosity he tossed Kariya one of his burgers before heading towards the side exit, taking note of the flashing sirens that had appeared in the front.

"And just what warranted that unnecessary display of violence, might I ask?" The older Reaper followed closely, eyes on the lollipop that was just barely out of reach. Sho didn't respond, instead taking the opportunity to remove a burger from his pocket and cram the entire thing into his mouth. Kariya grimaced.

"Classy."

"Mffhfhghh mfhfh fhhkkkhthpsfhh."

"Gross, dude."

"Hhthjkktsppschklll."

_"Dude."_

Sho finally swallowed, wiping his mouth with his hand, and reached for another burger.

"You said it's been five days."

"That it has."

"Five days since _what?_"

Kariya went silent for a moment, then flinched back as if he'd just been burned.

"Zing! Guess I should've kept my mouth shut."

"Mmgfhhfhjkl?"

"...Ew. Actually, maybe _you_ should keep your mouth shut."

Turning into an empty alleyway, the Grim Heaper took a second to survey the area before perching ontop of a closed dumpster, emptying his pockets beside him. The Harrier preferred to stand, looking none too relaxed in their current setting. The silence was growing more tense as the seconds ticked by, with Sho's gaze never leaving Kariya, and Kariya's gaze never leaving his lollipop.

"Alright, fine. Five days since I saw you."

"Sfhllschh hffgh schlsfhhwhgh mmfghf _wsfhgghhjt?_"

Kariya finally averted his gaze in disgust.

Gulp.

"Five days since you saw me _what?_" Sho reached for a hotdog, unwrapping it. "You said, 'Hadn't seen you in five days.' Hectopascal, the last time I met with you was the beginning of my week as Game Master. Expand that equation." Pause. "Hotdog?"

"What? Oh, no thanks. I'm fine with this."

Sho proceeded to shove the entire thing in his mouth.

"...That's not only gross, but _extremely_ suggestive." A smirk tugged at Kariya's lips upon getting flipped off, but he decided not to push any more buttons for now, lest Pi-Face start talking with his mouth full again. "Five days since I saw you lying there under a mountain of trash. That was...what, Sunday or Monday? Day after the last week ended. Day we finally got a break." He quieted when Sho held up a finger in a 'hold it' gesture, taking the time to finish the hotdog before continuing (much to Kariya's relief).

"And you didn't do anything to help me?"

"Effort." Kariya shrugged. "And it wasn't my business anyway."

"...You son of a digit. I could have been erased."

"Again, none of my business. Especially considering how many times _I _almost got erased because of _you._"

Sho paused.

"...Oh yeah."

"Yeah." Kariya's glare had returned, currently fixated on the hamburger in his hand. He wasn't hungry anymore, but he wasn't going to give it back, either. Lifting his gaze, he held his other hand out expectingly. "I answered your question. Give it."

"Not yet, radian. Second question." Sho pointed a strudel accusingly at the Harrier. "'We were worried about you'. 'We thought you got erased.' _We._ Who's 'we'?"

"Who do you think?"

"I assumed you meant Ya-zero."

"Maybe."

"Just wanted to make sure."

"Maybe."

Sho quirked a brow. "Maybe?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not telling."

"Alright, hectopascal, let me write this out for you. You saw me after I was knocked out. I've been out for _five days,_ and I have a hard time believing no one decided to derive me during that time. I was a sitting duck." He took a sip of the cola. "And who was the first digit I talked to after waking up? You. Pretty fast after waking, too. That's what makes the 'we' bother me."

The silence afterwards indicated the Harrier wasn't following, but Sho knew damn well he was.

"Don't tell me you were _watching_ me."

The silence continued for a while before Kariya shrugged again.

"Alright, I won't." He smirked when Sho's eyes widened. Maybe the Grim Heaper wasn't _actually_ expecting to be correct. "It was business, that's all. And you're right on the _we,_ too. Yashiro knows nothing of it."

"Then who..?"

_The Composer?_

Kariya rather suddenly lunged forward, shoving Sho down against the dumpster and pinning him in exactly the way he had been pinned a little while before. The dark look in his eyes sent a very clear message that words couldn't; it wasn't so much a threat as a warning, and given his smirk, it wasn't much of a warning, either. But it was enough.

"I'm not telling."

Taking the opportunity while Sho was still stunned, Kariya snatched the lollipop from the Grim Heaper's hand and promptly stuck it in his mouth. Letting up, he turned away and began to fade as he rapidly upped his vibe, wings becoming visible once more.

"Let's just say someone very powerful is looking out for you."

"Wait a second!" Sho sprang forwards to reach for the Reaper, but he was already gone. Focusing to tune into the UG, he at least had the sense to grab the rest of his meal before the planeshift, hurriedly stuffing it back into his pockets. The cacophony of thoughts returned to his head, and just above him he could sense Kariya's vibe.

And then it was gone.

His own wings unfurled and took him to the top of the alleyway in one flap, but the Harrier was nowhere to be seen. Golden eyes adjusting to the darkness, he scanned for any sign of him, unable to restrain the little growl of frustration that left his throat. Landing on the roof of the burger place, he situated himself between the golden arches and looked out over the city, but now he was not so much determined to find his quarry so much as he was trying to make sense of their conversation.

Kariya had been watching him while he was out.

Not only was that somewhat creepy, it was completely out of character. He had absolutely no obligation to watch over his unconscious body – if it were anyone else, actually, they more than likely would have struck while he was down and finished the job that Joshua didn't.

Sho took a second to wipe the silver-haired boy's image from his mind before getting his train of thought back on track.

After all the chaos he had made with the Taboo Noise, any Reaper in his right mind would have erased him on the spot. Kariya didn't. Nor did he actually have it in his heart to help him out – instead he just let Sho lay there, battered and broken and completely vulnerable, and...watched him. Such bizarre behaviour could be attributable to following someone's _orders,_ which made sense – _business,_ he'd said, and taking into account what he'd last mentioned...

_Someone very powerful is looking out for you._

A streak of orange entered Sho's vision, and he took off like a hawk, flying perfectly now that his wings were fixed. They were dispelled the second he hit the ground, turning and preparing to chase should his quarry have seen him coming at him–

Sho stopped.

It wasn't Kariya.

"Aw man! What're the cops doing here?"

"Looks like we won't be eating here tonight."

It took Sho a few seconds to take in exactly what he was looking at. A mass of spiky orange polygons on a kid that looked no older than fifteen, with some black-haired girl in glasses he'd never seen before, some guy with a skateboard that he only vaguely remembered, and some little yoctogram that looked kind of like the skateboard kid but without all the muscles and without any readily observable gender. The orange-haired kid's name wasn't coming to mind, but once it clicked – there was no doubt about it. This was the kid that was with the Composer.

"Well, we could always go to that ramen place..."

"Nah man, they be closed by now. You see what time it is?"

"Oh snap, it's pushing midnight..."

_Midnight?_

"Wow, the hours sure do fly. Can't believe it's almost midnight already."

"Hey! What about the theatre? There's a midnight showing of..."

Insignificant. Sho took to the sky again, deciding it was about time to head back before Hanekoma noticed his absence. He could finish his meal when he got back, and it should more than last him until breakfast, provided he could actually sleep.

_Someone very powerful..._

No, he wasn't going to sleep tonight.

"Whaddya say, Neku?"

Ah. Neku.

So that's what his name was.


End file.
